


Denerim University

by SeidrFox



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Eventual Relationships, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Multiple Hawkes (Dragon Age), Multiple Lavellans (Dragon Age), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeidrFox/pseuds/SeidrFox
Summary: Students from across Thedas come to study at the acclaimed Denerim University. Roommates, study groups, part time jobs, homework... and lots of energy drinks. Here they'll cross paths, make friends, maybe find love--and try their hardest just to pass finals.A university AU story that will change POV to tell the stories of the extended cast of the Dragon Age universe as most try to get through college, with all the challenges that entails.
Kudos: 6





	1. (Fenris)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings will be noted by chapter in author's notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings for this chapter apply (aside from Danarius existing in general)

The letter felt heavy in Fenris’ hand.

It had come that morning, while he was still packing up the few belongings he had into boxes, and he’d tossed the envelope onto a windowsill for later, in favor of keeping his moving momentum. He’d nearly forgotten about it by the time he’d finished dragging his desk and bedframe down the stairs of his apartment complex and put it into the moving truck. It was only when he went in to lock the door for the last time and did one final once-over of the tiny studio apartment that he spotted it by the window, and perched himself on the sill to read it.

He breathed in deep, trying to catch his breath. The room was hot, and he was regretting not hiring any movers to help him. He didn’t have enough belongings to warrant it, but even so, moving furniture was hard work, and he was tired.

He turned the envelope over in his hands. The thick paper and the professional, serif print of it told him before he even saw the sender that it was from his lawyer. Pretentiously minimalistic, that was the style of everything he received from the office, and this letter was no different. He’d seen enough of them that it was familiar, and he tore the corner open with his teeth, worrying a bit over whether his change of address would go through after the move, since this arrived so late. He slid a finger under the ripped corner, tearing open the rest, and removed the letter inside.

Unfolding the letter with a hand, with his free hand he wiped the sweat off his forehead. If he hadn’t already been sweating from moving furniture, he would be now. These letters always played on his nerves, but he hoped this one would be good news. He skimmed over the words, all the legal jargon and the formal, obligatory greetings.

It wasn’t good.

Court date, delayed, _again_. This was the fourth time it had been so, and a frustrated growl rose in the back of Fenris’ throat. He wanted to crunch the paper up then, but he didn’t--he made sure to read every bit of it, hoping for some scrap of something favorable in it. It was ‘going well, all things considered’, as his lawyer put it. ‘Building up a strong case in the meantime,’ and other such empty reassurances. Nothing concrete.

Now he did crunch it, balling it up in a fist. He closed his eyes, scrunching them shut against the blood he could hear rushing behind his ears. Frustration turned his clenched knuckles white, and it took him a couple minutes to manage a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he took a look around the empty apartment one last time. It was dingy, to be honest; had been when he moved in. Much different than the marble floors and mahogany furniture he’d grown up with. But it had been his, and best of all, it was far away from his father.

Danarius Zonaras. A Senator in the Magisterium of Tevinter, and distinguished politician.

Well, not distinguished anymore. Not since his son had brought him to court in the biggest scandal Tevinter had seen in… Well, honestly, Tevinter had no lack of scandals, so all things considered, it probably didn’t rank very high. But it had tarnished the name and career of Fenris’ father, and embroiled him in a court battle that was still going on, even after Fenris’ official emancipation from his guardianship over a year and a half ago. The elite of Tevinter were still whispering about it among themselves, and every time a new update on the case came, all the tabloid magazines ran a new story on it, front page if it was anything more interesting than another delay.

Today’s letter would just be a footnote of the front page.

At least this far away he didn’t have to really worry about the magazines’ predatory paparazzi. His lawyer had done a good job with that; They’d all been forced to reuse old photos of him over and over, and in general he stayed out of the case. He would be completely removed from it, if it weren’t for his sister.

He shifted his weight to his feet and stood, giving the apartment a last grateful glance before locking the door behind him, descending the stairs, and climbing into the driver’s seat of the moving truck.


	2. (Anders)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drug Warning: Elfroot in place of weed

It had been a long while since Anders had been in Ferelden. It felt even longer than that. He'd grown up there. His family had lived in a southern Ferelden town, Morwick's Ford, until he was discovered to be a mage, and been sent to a Circle--a government-funded home for children found unwanted after manifesting magical ability. When his overly-religious father had found out Anders had magic, he hadn't hesitated to send him away. That had gotten him sent to a Circle called Kinloch Hold, all the way across the country from his home town.

One too many runaway attempts and a history of small delinquencies growing up had labeled him a problem, and before he aged out of the system and into a lifetime of monitored parole, they had given him an ultimatum--imprisonment, or join the Grey Wardens.

Today, he walked, alone, in the pre-sunrise haze of the morning down concrete paths lined with sprawling green lawns and landscaped flowerbeds. Demerim University campus.

It was quiet, too early for anyone to be walking around the place yet. Not just too early in the day, but a week too early for the autumn term to begin. The air was beginning to cool with the season, and Anders pulled his jacket closer around him as he walked.

The Wardens were a charity group of sorts. Ages ago they had been formed as a response to handle the Blight. Since then, five Blights had come and gone, and the current era had seen no signs of the next one. Between Blights and in the last hundred years or so they functioned as an outreach group: building schools in wartorn places, helping humanitarian efforts, replanting forests, and so on.

It hadn't been a hard choice for him to make. They said it would reform him. He didn’t know about _that_ , but decided a few years of helping people abroad was better than being even more of a prisoner than the Circle had made him feel, and agreed.. So they sent him on his way. After a couple weeks of debriefing, the unit they assigned him to had been sent to Seheron.

Seheron has been at war for as long as anyone could remember. They weren't sent to the active war zones, but were meant to provide aid to communities in places the conflict had already long since passed through.

Even now, after his service was over, he didn't know if it had 'reformed' him, but he certainly did learn a lot there. Going into it all he'd been rather bitter, justifiedly, he thought. But he'd been able to do some good there overall, and now that his enlistment period was over, he was absolved of his previous troublemaking reputation, for the most part. They'd expunged the 'flight risk' label from his file when he completed his term, and even better--he'd done so well in the Wardens that they'd agreed to pay for his tuition.

His flight had landed him in town a week before term began. A few hours ago he'd caught a bus to campus, where he was now wandering, wondering what to do. He didn't have anywhere to stay quite yet. Dorms didn't open up for move-in until the day after tomorrow. He didn't know anyone in town to stay with. Well, not entirely true, but no one that he wanted to bother for just these few days.

The general plan at the moment was to find somewhere safe, probably a bench, to sleep for the next couple of days. 

_Maybe the library is open,_ he thought to himself. 

It wasn't as if he hadn't slept in worse conditions before. Camping with the Wardens had been rough at times, and oftentimes during his escape attempts from the Circle he'd spend the night, or even weeks, out on the street. This was just a couple of days, and the campus itself was plush enough he wasn't too worried.

He paused, looking around. The golden twilight of dawn was starting to wash everything with shades of yellow and orange, and the crisp smell of morning dew tickled his nose. Unconsciously, he scuffed the toe of his boot--Warden-issued, tough, brown leather--back and forth against the concrete.

The campus buildings looked new, modern with an abundance of windows set into brick and cement. Huge lawns dotted with tall trees and flowerbeds spaced out the buildings from one another, crisscrossed by paths dotted with benches and tall lampposts.

Across one of these lawns, Anders spotted a vending machine, and his stomach let out a loud growl. He half-chuckled, half-sighed. And here he thought his cat had uncannily perfect comedic timing. 

The grass was slightly crunchy under his boots when he turned and started walking over the lawn toward the vending machine. He wondered idly how his cat was doing, and started worrying again. Ser Pounce a Lot was probably scared, angry and alone right now, stuck in quarantine in a facility that had better be treating him well. For the attendants’ sake, if nothing else. Pounce was… cranky at times. Especially with strangers.

The quarantine place Anders had booked Pounce into made him rent out what was normally a space for a dog; The little orange kitten that Anders had found shivering, skinny, and alone in Seheron during his time with the Wardens didn’t look a thing like that anymore. Now Pounce was an eighteen-pound monstrosity, one that Anders had had to pull many strings to get the Wardens to help him fly back to Ferelden with him. He wasn’t supposed to have a pet there, but with the help of the rest of his friends in the Warden unit backing him up, he hadn’t had to leave the cat he’d grown so attached to behind, thank the Maker.

He stopped in front of the vending machine, hands in his jacket pockets, and surveyed his options. Lots of chips, candy bars, cookies… nothing very filling though. Maybe the chips?

_Oh_ , he thought, spotting the bottom row of sandwiches. His mouth quirked a bit, in distaste. He’d had four sandwiches in the last two days, cheap airport fare, and if he had to look at one more ham and cheese, he might be sick. Two of the five slots that made up the bottom row were empty, taunting him with a label that promised, in all caps, ‘TURKEY’, and didn’t deliver. Two of the three remaining were, as he feared, ‘HAM’, and he began to consider just chips again, before seeing the last slot. ‘TUNA’, it read.

It had been a long time since he’d had a tuna sandwich. Through the glass of the machine and the plastic container that contained it, he thought he even saw pickle relish, which for a brief moment made him revisit a long-passed memory of sitting in the kitchen with a couple of his siblings while their mother made pickles, the smell of vinegar strong and acrid in the air.

The thought occurred to him that perhaps getting something perishable from a vending machine wasn’t the best idea, considering the empty campus, but at a brief glance, there _were_ a few people beginning to mill around the paths and buildings, mostly professors prepping for the semester, from the looks of it. As long as he checked the date on the package, he should be fine, he decided. From a pocket he pulled out a hashed-looking wallet. The leather was light in places and practically disintegrating in others, but it was holding together for now, and he took a couple of paper sovereign notes out of it and fed them to the machine. A couple buttons pressed and it spat out the sandwich at him in an unceremonious drop into the retrieval slot. 

He retrieved his change, his sandwich, and began to wander once more, aimlessly as ever, around the campus, unpackaging the food as he went. 

He settled on a bench as he took his first bite of the sandwich, watching as a bald elven man in a tweed overcoat rolled a cart full of painting canvases off toward what was labelled above the door as the ‘Visual Arts’ building. One of the art professors, he assumed. He’d probably never know, he didn’t have many electives he had to take, and he’d never been very good at art. Not the worst, but not enough to pursue when he had other interests. And the load of Circle coursework on top of homework from public school, and the special programs the Circle put him in when they found out he was a spirit healer… Come to think of it, he was actually under a lot of pressure as a kid. 

He chewed thoughtfully, watching more people mill by. He’d never given that much thought. Something about living in the system and not having parents pressuring you had made him exempt from that in his mind at the time, but looking back now, no wonder he had been such a disaster. Spent most of his time avoiding going home to the Kinloch Hold Circle, and spent most nights he could get away with it sleeping on couches at friends’ houses. Avoiding doing homework that he never did turn in, skating by on barely-passing grades and forgetting to eat most days. Come to think of it, he still did that. 

The sandwich tasted really good, possibly just by virtue of not being ham. It made him miss opening a can of tuna and giving some of the water to Ser Pounce, though, and he wondered again after how the cat was doing. He sighed.

He looked around for a trash can once he finished his sandwich, but didn’t see one near him. Not one to litter, he closed the plastic container with a _pop_ and put it in the bag he carried with him, standing again. May as well familiarize himself with campus, maybe avoid being late or having to rely so hard on maps on his first day. At least it was something to do, for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He ended up settling himself into the library after he wandered around and found his classes. He’d always liked reading, so the day went by quickly. It was late when an a pretty, elven woman around his age approached him, making him jump a little. He’d been so lost in some complex text about magical practices in Rivain that he hadn’t heard her approach.

“Excuse me,” said the young woman, with a kind smile. She had a light accent, though Anders couldn’t place from where. “The library closes in fifteen minutes.”

He smiled back, holding his place in the book with his finger. “Oh. I thought the sign said the library was 24 hours?”

She nodded apologetically. “Usually, yes. Since the semester hasn’t started, though, we close at 11, until next week. Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s okay--” he began to say, beginning to close his book, and rethink his plans for where to stay for the night. Looks like it would probably be a bench or stairwell, for him.

“We put up signs about that,” she added hastily, “but they didn’t print enough and the back entrance didn’t get one, so you might not have seen them.”

He had come in the back door. He did his best to put on a genuine smile, breathing a polite chuckle. “Really, it’s okay. Thanks for letting me know.” He stood then, holding the book, and they looked at one another awkwardly. He towered over her now, as tall as he was. At the same moment, he reached for his bag, and she offered a hand, which he blinked at dumbly.

She blushed a little. “Sorry. I, uh, can take your book for you. I’ve got a few more to put away before I’m done for the night. It’s no trouble.”

He passed the book to her. “Oh, thanks.” He then did pick up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He gave her another awkward smile, “I’ll be back in tomorrow, probably. Thanks.”

He gave her an awkward nod, which she smiled in response to, and then slunk his way out of the library. 

Autumn was definitely coming. The nights were starting to get cold, and when goosebumps rose on his arms when he stepped out, he pulled his jacket closer to him, zipping it up. The Wardens had given him that too, a thick thing meant for all temperatures. It keep in the heat well, so at least he wouldn’t freeze.

He looked around the campus. His stomach was beginning to turn a little, the starts of nausea, and he frowned, shifting his weight as he surveyed for a place to sleep. There were benches out in the open, but they probably already had campus security doing rounds, so his best bet would probably be a closed-in stairwell leading to the basement of a building. Maybe the tech buildings would have one?

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he started to descend the library’s concrete stairs. Just as he reached the bottom, a voice startled him.

“I know that look, if I’m not mistaken.”

He wheeled around, only then seeing an elf sitting on the bottom step of the library, leaning against the railing, smoking. Elfroot, from the smell of it. 

“Looking for a place to stay the night?” he asked, mouth quirking into a smirk so sharp it could cut.

“How did…?”

“Call it many nights spent doing the same.” His accent was Antivan, his pronunciations crisp. He held out a hand toward Anders, mischief glinting in amber eyes. “Zevran Arainai. A pleasure to meet you.”

Confused, Anders gingerly took the hand offered to him, and shook it. “Anders.”

“Hit?” Zevran asked, offering him the blunt. 

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself. You are new in town, yes?” Zevran took another pull himself.

Anders nodded. “I used to live here. I’ve been away for a few years. I came back for school.”

He nodded at Anders’ jacket, casually pointing at the griffon crest on the shoulder. “A good friend of mine joined the Wardens some time ago.”

“Yes, I’m here on a scholarship from them. Who’s your friend?”

“Where were you posted? I doubt you would know her.”

“Seheron?” Anders was wondering what this man wanted, but he seemed friendly enough. Maybe he was just talkative. 

Zevran hummed. “Probably not, then. She is in Amaranthine now, I believe.”

Anders nodded, not sure what to say. The discomfort in his stomach was growing, and he leaned forward a little, shifting his weight.

“I assume you don’t have a place to stay, from the looks of you?”

Anders shifted his weight again, and did what he usually did at times like this. Deflect. “Oh, I’ll be fine, it’s--”

Zevran slid gracefully to his feet. “Tell you what. In the interest of shared Warden friends, introduced or not, why don’t you come back to my apartment. I’ve got a very comfortable pull out couch.” He gave Anders a lingering up and down look. “Or an even more comfortable bed, if you were so inclined to join me.”

Anders’ eyebrows shot up, a blush rising to his cheeks. “O--oh, I…”

Zevran raised his hands, placating, the still-glowing blunt held between his teeth as he talked. “I mean no offense, and the offer doesn’t hinge on that.” He put his hands back down, pulling the blunt out of his mouth and stubbing it out on the railing of the stairs. “I’m happy to help a Warden. They do good in a world that has not nearly enough good in it.”

Anders contemplated, briefly wondering if he might get murdered. Probably not, and to be honest, he’d taken bigger risks with who he went home with, before. He nodded. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all, my friend.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings for this chapter apply
> 
> I got a little stuck on this chapter, so it's a little short. Hope you enjoy anyway!

“Tessaaaaaaaaaa!”

“I’m coming, just a minute!”

Leandra sighed at the bottom of the stairs, shifting her weight from heeled-foot to heeled-foot. “We’ll be late if you don’t hurry.”

“Keep your panties on, Mom.” Her daughter came clomping down the stairs in heavy leather boots, carrying a duffel bag. “The school isn’t going anywhere.”

“Tess! You can’t just say that to Mom!” Carver glared at his older sister, going red in the face when that only made her laugh. 

“Would you rather I tell her to take her panties off? I’d think that would be worse.” She tossed the duffel bag to him, which he fumbled to catch. “Take this to the car, will you? Thanks!” She brushed past him, kissing him on the cheek before breezing from the room.

Carver grumbled, but began to head outside with the bag.

Another figure ran through the room, making Leandra jump. “Where’s my scarf? Has anyone seen it?”

Her nerves were already fraying, and they hadn’t even left yet, thought Leandra. “You left it on the banister, dear,” she said patiently, grabbing a red silk scarf from the railing next to her, and handing it to Bethany, who came skidding back into the room. The dark curls of her hair bounced with the motion.

“Thanks mom!” She snatched the scarf and disappeared just as quickly again, and Leandra called after her. “Hurry, get in the car!”

“I can’t go without my headphones!” Bethany called behind her. “Have you seen them?”

“Kitchen counter,” she called back.

“Thanks!”

Bethany had always been a forgetful one when it came to leaving things around the house. Leandra sighed. 

"Anyone not in the car in five minutes is being left here!" She called to no one in particular, hoping the family was gathered out by the car by now.

Tessa passed back through the room, grabbing a backpack off the bottom step. The zippers jingled against metal pins and studs, and the leather straps creaked when she slung it over one shoulder. "Okay, but what if I strap myself to the  _ top _ of the car? Or perhaps I could just sit on the hood?"

Leandra rolled her eyes at her daughter, but reached out and brushed a blonde strand of hair out of Tessa's face. "I can't believe you're already leaving. Half my children out of the house in a day."

"Oh, Mother." She took Leandra's hand, squeezing it in her own. “You can always call. And the twins will still be here. You'll hardly be alone." She smiled, mischievous. "Besides. I'd think this would be a mercy. Think of how much quieter it will be. You could take naps! When's the last time you did that?"

"Definitely not since you were born. You’ve never slept at any reasonable hour."

"Exactly. And I never plan to.” She moved to the front door, swinging it open and ushering her mother through with an exaggerated bow. “Now, are we ready for a  _ road trip _ ?!"

Leandra grabbed her purse from the hooks of the coat shelf by the door, and exited the house, stepping out onto the driveway. Bethany bolted out afterward; a pair of red headphones slung around her neck. They locked the door behind them and began to climb into their cars. Tessa slid into the driver’s side of an expensive purple BMW, and Bethany climbed into the passenger side. The top of the convertible was up, and the backseat sat haphazardly piled with suitcases and bags stuffed full. Leandra with Carver climbed into the family’s black Cadillac Escalade, Caver in the backseat alongside a number of taped-up boxes.

With one leg halfway into the car, Leandra paused, looking around the driveway. “Now  _ where  _ is Levi?”

A motorcycle engine revved, right on cue. The sound was so loud it hurt her ears, and she winced. Skirting around the side of the garage, the second-oldest Hawke sibling rolled up, pausing to flash a smirk at his mother, who gave him a scolding look.

“What, all waiting on me? You shouldn’t have.” He slipped a helmet, scarlet red, onto his head. “Really. I won’t wait for you all. Slowpokes.” In a movement he flicked the helmet’s visor down and tore off down the driveway down the street.

Leandra rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. It seemed like that was all she ever did with this lot. Sigh all day. At this rate she'd end up with ulcers.

A pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders. “Relax dear.” A kiss found her cheek. “He’s going to get coffee, he’ll meet us before we get on the highway.” 

She turned to her husband, Malcolm, who gave her a sympathetic look from behind loose blond hair.

“I just got the last of the boxes into the trunk, so we’re all set to go. You know, it’ll be two less of them in the house after today. Think we’ll be able to handle the silence?”

“After this long? I don’t think I’ll know what to do with it.”

He chuckled, helping her into the driver’s seat. "I mean, Tess and Levi were both out of the house for a bit already."

"I know, but I got used to them being back. I missed when they were gone then…”

"I know. We'll manage, though." He shut her door. Going around the car, he got into the passenger and rolled down the window, leaning out to look at Tessa and Bethany in the BMW. “Everybody ready?"

From her own open window, Tessa gave her father a thumbs up. He gave it back--they looked similar, halfway to a mirrored image. Tessa had always taken after her father in looks.

Malcolm began to pull out of the driveway, followed by Tessa in her own car, and with that, they were off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood Warning: minor accidental cut with a small amount of blood

“Oh. Oh dear.” 

Carnage covered the floor. Well, carnage in the form of dirt. Dark clumps scattered across the white tile of the ground of Denerim University’s Dalish Resource Center. Shards of green ceramic lay amongst the mess, along with the uprooted body of a succulent plant.

Merrill’s hands were pressed over her mouth. She stared in abject horror at the plant that she’d backed into, knocking it off the counter they had been doing paperwork on. 

The other Dalish students were all staring at her now, and a violent blush rose to her cheeks. 

“I am  _ so  _ sorry, I can fix this, I…” She bent down, starting to collect pieces of the broken pot in her hands. Another of the students, from her own clan, Ambriel, joined her. Sweeping dirt into a more manageable pile.

“It’s okay, no harm done,” offered the aide at the counter kindly, from behind large, thick glasses. “I’ll go get a broom, don’t worry about it.” They disappeared behind a door that led further back into the building.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Merrill said sharply. The corner of a shard she’d picked up bit into her palm, and a bead of blood dripped down her hand. 

A young man with long, auburn hair crouched down by her, his eyebrows drawn in a look of concern. His ears were especially large, even for an elf. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

Ambriel, who had been Merrill’s friend since they were practically infants, deftly signed to Merrill that she would pick up the ceramic pieces. She held out a hand to take what Merrill had already picked up from her, then motioned with her free hand to a first aid kit hung on the wall of the office, near the end of the desk.

“Right, thanks.” Merrill stood up, turning to go get into the first aid box.

One of the girls from another clan turned away from her packet of paperwork. “Can I help with that?” 

Merrill smiled, still blushing, maybe a little more so now. The girl was very pretty. “I’ll just get a bandaid, but thank you.”

“Oh, no, I meant heal that for you.” The girl held up a hand, fingers glowing with softly-swirling blue energy. “It’s no trouble, a little scratch like that is easy.”

More warmth rose to Merrill’s cheeks. “Oh! I mean if you’d like to, that’s, if it’s not too much trouble. I’ve never been much good at healing magic, I’m afraid, it always just fizzles out, for me, I…” She sighed as the girl took her hand, washing over her with a warm, comforting sensation that seemed to pull the pain out of the wound and out to dissipate into the air around them. “That feels lovely.”

The other good friend from her clan, Tamlen, smirked at her, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Ambriel, who smiled back at him. They saw how flustered she was, and damn them, that only made her blush harder.

When the girl released her hand, the cut was gone, only leaving the rapidly-drying smear of blood on her wrist.

“My name’s Lanaya. You said you’re from Clan Sabrae, right? We’re from Clan Seleven.” She gestured at a couple leaning against the desk, and against each other, working on the paperwork, with their heads turned to watch what had happened when the plant crashed to the floor. “That’s Cammen, and Gheyna.”

“It’s very nice to meet you all,” Merril said.

Ceramic clinked lightly together with the rustling of a trash bag, as Ambriel threw away the remains of the pot. The desk aid from before reappeared then, coming around the counter to start sweeping up the dirt.

“I’m so sorry,” repeated Merrill. “Really.”

The aide smiled up at her. “Really, it’s okay. We have other plants in here, as you can see,” they gestured at a couple of trees in one corner near a sitting area, and a lined up row of pots on the other side of the counter from where Merrill had knocked one off. “To be honest,” they picked up the plant, a single stiff, core root sticking straight down from a bundle of pointed leaves, “this one hasn’t been doing well for a while. We were thinking about tossing it out anyway.” It did look a little yellow at the leaf edges.

“Oh no,” Merrill protested. “I’ll bet it could still be saved. It looks like it just needs less water, is all.”

The aid looked surprised, standing up to dump the dirt into the trash. “I’ve never had succulents before. I get scared it’s going to die, when I don’t water it for a few days! You sound like you know them well.”

Merrill nodded. “I love plants. All kinds, not just succulents.” The aide moved to throw the plant away, but Merrill interrupted. “Wait! Do you think I could, um, take that, actually?” She pointed at the plant. “It seems like a shame to throw it away.”

The aide blinked a couple of times, then smiled, and handed it to her. “Uh, sure.”

The big-eared young man that had checked on Merrill before came over to her now, offering her a little packaged square, an alcohol wipe he’d taken from the first aid box while she and the aid had been talking.

“Here, to wipe that off.” He nodded at the blood on her arm.

“That’s very sweet, thank you!” She took it, tearing it open and unfolding the wipe. The dried blood tinted part of the wipe a rusty brown. She dropped it in a balled-up crumple on top of the dirt and ceramic already in the trash, then stared for a moment at the man. “Have I seen you somewhere before? I feel like we’ve met.”

He blinked, face blank. “We’re from Clan Lavellan,” he offered.

“Yes!” Merrill exclaimed, excitedly. “Our clan met up with you at the  _ Arlathvenn  _ near Markham, a few years ago! The Brithael Clan’s Keeper gave a very nice presentation on what they’ve been finding at the dig sites at Arlathan.”

He smiled. “Right! Eisleira, wasn’t that the presentation you wouldn’t stop talking about for three days?” He was talking to the woman he’d been standing with at the counter before the pot incident, a relative of some kind, from the looks of it. They had the same freckles, and similar red hair, though the woman’s was lighter. 

“It was not  _ three days _ ,” she retorted back, still filling out her paperwork, though she was smiling, in a long-suffering kind of way. “And it was  _ interesting _ , you thought so too.”

“It was. Hang on.” He looked at Merrill again, squinting slightly, casually pointing at her with a backward-facing gesture, his wrist bending back. “Aren’t you Sabrae’s First?”

Merrill’s blush over the pot and the pretty girl had gone down.  _ Had. _ Now it was back, blood coming to her cheeks in a flustered rush that she felt even at the tips of her ears. “Yes, uh, that’s me. I’m obviously taking a break though, to come to school here… I mean, you knew that, obviously, I’m here, and so are you, and you know how the Clans work, and…” Her face turned even redder. She was rambling. She always rambled when she got embarrassed. 

She spent a lot of time rambling, come to think of it.

The aide had moved back behind the desk, and saved Merrill with an interruption. “Everyone please make sure you sign the back of the third page. It’s the one about housing policies. They’re pretty lenient, since the Resource sets them up and they’re off campus, but there is a signature line on the bottom that most people overlook.”


End file.
